


One More Off-Key Anthem

by breakfastatmilliways



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, nsfw-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:28:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastatmilliways/pseuds/breakfastatmilliways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teencast. Prom shenanigans. That is all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never did think I would wind up writing teencast, but then this- http://breakfastatmilliways.tumblr.com/post/132650037010/breakfastatmilliways-i-made-a-stupid-prom-joke -happened, so now I’m writing a god damn prom fic. As can be expected of the ~greatest night of teen romance and drama, this is going to include a lot of friggin' ships. 
> 
> I’m not sure how many parts this will have, but it won’t be terribly long. Probably three parts, maybe five maximum if I wind up getting too rambly.

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

Nano nearly spilled the contents of the test tube she was supposed to be carefully measuring into a beaker and turned to look incredulously at her chemistry partner. It would seem that she hadn’t just misheard, if the expectant look on Ross’ face was any indication. She stared silently for a moment before letting out a sigh. This sort of unexpected nonsense would never have happened if Lalna hadn’t been moved to that AP chemistry class.

“Why would you even ask me that? Have you not noticed that I’m an Anti-Prom regular?” She questioned, earning herself a bit of a shrug in response.

“Sure, but there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

“Alright, better question; why aren’t you going with your bum buddies?” She tipped her head in the direction of the bench at the other end of the room, where the aforementioned ‘bum buddies’ were currently dealing with a bit of a disaster in the form of smoke billowing out of their beaker. Or rather, Trott was attempting to deal with it, while Smith looked about ready to fall off of his stool as a direct result of his hysterical laughter. A glance back at Ross showed that he was watching them with an expression somewhere between affectionate and resigned.

“It’s not as though that’s not an option. Smith already suggested it. It’s just…” He trailed off, brow furrowed slightly, and Nano attempted to save him the trouble of finding words.

“Don’t want people knowing you’re gay? Because I hate to break it to you, but you three are hardly subtle.”

Ross looked at her as though she had suddenly grown several extra heads and maybe a few new limbs for good measure. “What? No. It’s my parents.”

“You’ve not even come out to them? I wouldn’t worry about it, they seem reasonable, I doubt they’ll care you’re gay, Ross.”

“Would you- I’m not _gay.”_

“Fine, bisexual then. Pan? Whatever tickles your pickle, dude.”

“You are entirely missing the point. It’s not about the gender of the dates, it’s about the fact that it’s _dates._ Plural. There’s two of them. Would you want to explain that to _your_ mum?”

“Sure. My mum’s a pretty liberal person. Your parents might surprise you.”

“They might, but that doesn’t make it any more of a conversation that I want to have right now, thank you.”

Nano frowned slightly, watching as Ross concentrated on getting the right size flame going on the bunsen burner. He was always a _bit_ more serious than his two cohorts, relatively speaking, but she couldn’t remember a time through all of their years in school together that she had seen him looking quite so bothered by something. They were hardly ‘besties’, her and Ross, but she did consider him a friend, and she _had_ always been one to help out a friend in need, even if it was often begrudgingly.

“...Ugh, fine. I’ll go- but I’m not sticking around, you understand? I’ll show for the photo op, stay for a dance or two, and that’s it… and you’d better get me a _darn_ good corsage, I’ve got to get a pretty flower out of this at least.” As she spoke, Ross’ expression became visibly flooded with relief, and he gave a soft chuckle.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. M’lady, I shall spare no expense on your corsage.” Grinning a bit, he tipped an invisible hat in her direction, prompting her to start laughing as well. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. It might even be a nice bit of fun.

***

Normally, Xephos quite liked his role as Senior Class President. Sure, it wasn’t anything like being a _real_ government official, but lording his superiority over the rest of the student council was always fun, even if the actual organizational work occasionally got frustrating. Well, more than frustrating, really, given that organizing his council was a bit like herding cats, but the superiority was still great.

Today’s meeting, however, was not one that he had been looking forward to. The news he had been given by their faculty advisor was not what he had been wanting to hear, personally, and he knew that the small group of his fellow students gathered around him would likely feel the same.

“So… Big news! Great news!” He started after a long moment of hesitation. His enthusiasm wasn’t terribly believable, and it showed on the faces of the council. “No one signed up for the Prom Committee this year. Which means we get to organize the prom! They’ve given us total creative control, so long as we stay within our budget!”

The reaction this got from his fellows was about what he predicted; sighs and quiet muttering. Sips, his treasurer, merely rolled his eyes and pulled out a rather ancient looking Gameboy, which shortly began emitting the unmistakable sounds of a rousing game of Tetris.

“Is it entirely necessary for you to be playing that right now?” Xephos questioned in a carefully measured tone.

“Yeah, I gotta beat my high score. Get your priorities straight, Presidente.”

Xephos willed himself not to get too pissed off by this flagrant disregard for his authority. It wasn’t a big deal. Sips could do what he wanted. It wasn’t like he ever put any effort into his job as treasurer, anyway. He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“Could you turn down the volume at least?” He asked, ever so politely. Sips flicked his gaze up from the small screen to look at him for a moment before returning his attention to the game, one finger moving to slide the volume control up to maximum.

“Sips, for the love of-” He began through gritted teeth, before noticing out of the corner of his eye that Lomadia was waving an arm around above her head for his attention. His annoyance misdirected itself toward her, and he let out a frustrated groan. “You don’t have to raise your bloody hand, I’m not a teacher! What?!”

“It’s more fun when I treat you like the faculty. You get all annoyed and blustery and red in the face.” She paused, mouth splitting into a grin as Xephos could feel his face heating up. “Yep, just like that. Priceless. Anyway, why don’t we just throw the damn thing in the gymnasium and reroute the rest of the budget to the softball team?”

“The softball team has enough of a budget already. You already have top of the line equipment, how much more money can you possibly spend?” Strife piped up for the first time, looking up from the notebook in which he had been carefully jotting down the main points of the meeting in shorthand. Xephos was actually sort of impressed that he’d managed to find anything to write at all, given that they were swiftly going nowhere.

“We could use batting cages.” She responded matter-of-factly, earning a bit of an eye roll from Strife.

“We’re not rerouting the budget, Lomadia. Prom is a big deal to a lot of the student body, we can’t just throw a load of fucking streamers up in the gym and call it a day!” Xephos grumbled, more than a bit testily. They had made absolutely no progress, and the steady droning of the Tetris theme interspersed with bleeps and bloops in the background was slowly driving him more and more mental. He turned to Sips, about ready to tear out his own hair.  “How the hell have you not lost yet?!”

“It’s called having mad skills.” Sips responded dryly, not even glancing Xephos’ way. “I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

Enough was fucking enough. Letting out a wordless, strangled sounding yell of frustration, Xephos reached over, yanked the Gameboy out of Sips’ hands, and proceeded in throwing it at the wall without hesitation. Sips blinked up at him a few times, frowning slightly.

“Yeesh, that was uncalled for.” He commented in a mild tone.

“Your- Your bloody _face_ is uncalled for!” Xephos yelled right back, swiftly losing his ability to think of an intelligent comeback in his utter annoyance at this entire situation. It was then that they were joined by the final member of their little government, who was fashionably late as ever.

“Cheer up, friend, I’ve brought snacks!” Honeydew announced brightly as he plopped down on the chair beside Xephos, before upending his school bag over the table to produce a large pile of Jaffa Cake packets. What a surprise.

“The Vice President is supposed to be on time, Honeydew.” Xephos mentioned, quite a bit more patiently than he had been only a few seconds before. As big of an idiot as his best friend might have been, he was still pretty good at defusing tension.  

“I’m _basically_ on time.” The squat ginger boy defended, and Xephos didn’t feel up to arguing the point. If Honeydew wanted to consider being twenty minutes late being basically on time, that was his prerogative.

“Alright, well, we’ve got ten minutes left to make some actual progress here. Does anyone have any _legitimate_ suggestions?” Xephos asked after giving a long suffering sigh. For a while, no one said anything, until Strife finally spoke up again.

“If we don’t want to waste money on a DJ, I can talk to Parvis about getting that band he’s in to play. Surprisingly, they’re halfway decent.”

Xephos nodded slightly in agreement. Strife was often the only one to be legitimately helpful, and tonight was proving to be no exception. Lomadia still looked a bit put out that her suggestion of rerouting the budget had been shot down, but after a moment, she relented to helpfulness as well.

“My mum’s cousin got married in a fairly nice event hall a few months ago, and she said it was surprisingly affordable. I can ask her for more details.”

Before Xephos could agree with this, Honeydew interrupted with a yell of, “I’ll look into catering!!” The excitement in his voice was a bit suspect, and Xephos narrowed his eyes at him.

“We’re not having a banquet of nothing but Jaffas.” He warned, and Honeydew nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Of course not, Xephos! What do you take me for?”

“They type of guy who would literally put fifty Jaffas on a plate and call it catering?” Lomadia supplied, causing Honeydew to let out a dramatic gasp.

“For shame! You’ve such little faith in me!”

In the midst of the all this hullabaloo, Sips got to his feet and stretched before simply heading out of the room without a word. Xephos watched him go. For a moment, he thought about trying to call him back, but quickly decided against it. The last few minutes of their planning session would be much more successful without him anyway.

***

Sjin knew that he was good looking. He prided himself in this fact, just like he prided himself in being the only one in his graduating class to have successfully grown facial hair that didn’t look like thin wisps of nothingness or pubic hair. He also wasn’t above using those good looks to charm his clientele into paying him out the ass for even the most sub-par of weed.

Normally his weed being sub-par wasn’t an issue. He took extremely good care of his plants, thank you very much, and it wasn’t his fault that this particular crop had apparently given a bunch of likely very stoned aphids a case of the munchies. He’d managed to deal with the problem quickly enough- who’d have thought that something as adorable as ladybugs could be such murderous little monsters?- but the health of quite a few of his plants had dropped, and the quality of the buds had obviously been affected. Not that he was even remotely up front about this in selling them off.

“I’m telling you, this shit is the real deal, my dear.” He was saying in his most charming voice to a rather awkward looking sophomore girl, who was currently leaning against his car beside him in an out of the way corner of the school parking lot. She was obviously new at this and only pretending to really know what she was asking for when she approached him about buying his wares, and he had every intention of taking advantage of this fact. “This particular hybrid strain has extremely high concentrations of THC. In other words, you’ll get a lot more bang for your buck with this one.”

This was complete and utter bullshit, of course. The contents of the dime bag that he was holding in front of the girl’s face were nothing but regular old Indica, and from his more aphid damaged stock at that. The girl didn’t seem to know any better, though, and Sjin scooted a bit closer to lean against the hood of his car directly besider her, flashing his very best winning grin and leaning in close to murmur in her ear. “For you, gorgeous, I’ll even throw in a little extra.” And oh, she’d bought it hook, line and sinker, if the way she was now batting her eyelashes and giggling was any indication. All that was left to do now was close the deal. Reaching a hand up, he swiped a strand of hair out of her face, making a point of brushing his knuckles lightly against her cheek as he did so. “So what do you reckon, eh? You think you can manage fifty for this? I’m really letting you get away with murder with that kind of deal.”

Before the girl could even answer, let alone hand over the money that he could already practically feel within his grasp, the moment was interrupted by an abrupt, “For fuck’s sake, Sjin! Stop flirting! I need you to drive me to the Seven Eleven!”

Sjin let out a defeated sigh as the girl jumped away from him, staring at the newcomer with a total deer in the headlights look.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Sips commented dryly, rolling his eyes at her before turning his attention on Sjin, who was not particularly happy about this turn of events, and was now glaring at his friend accordingly. “Why are you looking at me like that, Sjin? Come on, if you’re really good, maybe daddy’ll buy you a nice lollipop…” The slightly ashen skinned teen reached out and clapped a hand on Sjin’s shoulder as he spoke. “Why are you still here? Scram, you’re not his type anyway.” This last part was directed at the still horrified looking younger girl, who promptly did as she was told, turning on her heel and bolting off toward the school building. Sjin narrowed his eyes further and shook Sips’ hand off of him.

“You just lost me my most successful scam of the week, you big dummy. She was about to give me fifty fucking bucks for this!” He waved the baggy vaguely in the air. “You know how much this crap is worth? Maybe ten.”

“Oh boo hoo, so you’ll need to flirt with some other clueless chick. I’ve inconvenienced you _so much_.” Sips replied with a laugh, reaching up a hand to completely fuck up Sjin’s artfully mussed hair. “Come on, dumbass, microwave burritos are a-calling.”

“I should really just make you walk for pulling this crap.” Sjin grumbled, even as he got out his keys to unlock the car and got into the driver’s seat. Once inside, he adjusted the rearview mirror in order to get a better look at himself while he attempted to tame the mess that Sips had made of his hair.

“Oh just leave it, you look great just the way you are, honey.” Sips teased, a big stupid grin on his big stupid face. Sjin tried to ignore the way the joking pet name made him feel as though his heart had skipped a beat.

Being in love with your ostensibly heterosexual best friend was the kind of thing any sane person would have nipped in the bud years ago, but Sjin had been a little bit late to the punch on that one. At this point, just pretending to himself that it wasn’t the case was his only real option. Granted, just biting the bullet and telling him might have been an option to. As he readjusted the mirror and stuck the keys in the ignition, he took a moment to consider the latter.

“Hey, Sjin?” Sips’ voice sounded considerably closer than it had been when he had last spoken, and Sjin turned to find that he had leaned over the center console far enough that their faces were now about as close as they could get without actually coming into contact. He swallowed, probably a bit more obviously than he would have liked, and unconsciously bit down slightly on his lower lip, trying to find his voice.

“What?” He finally managed, gaze flicking down to Sips’ mouth before making eye contact again. Was he imagining the feeling of electricity between them? He had to be. Sips gazed right back into his eyes for several long seconds, then finally spoke up again in a low voice.

“Stop being a prissy little fuck and drive. I’m hungry.”

Sjin reached past him to shift the car into reverse, ‘accidentally’ elbowing him in the stomach in the process. “Oops! Sorry about that, friend!” He commented with forced brightness as Sips reeled back, letting loose a string of expletives that involved quite a few colorful comments about Sjin’s mother.

Not for the first time, Sjin found himself wondering just how in the hell he’d managed to fall in love with the only person in the entire school that was a bigger asshole than him.


	2. Chapter 2

Trott knew his two best mates a bit too well, really. When he received a text in their group chat from Ross mere moments after arriving home from school that said simply ‘ _Taking Nano to prom_ ’, he immediately realized two things. One; that Ross had been avoiding them for precisely this reason after Chemistry had ended, because breaking that news via text was an easy way to avoid a face to face confrontation, and two; that Smith was the reason for that avoidance, because he would be fucking livid. What he didn’t quite anticipate was his bedroom door flying open only about fifteen minutes later to reveal Smith himself, looking every bit as livid as Trott had assumed he would be.

“Did you fucking read this?” His giant of a friend shouted through gritted teeth, waving his phone around rather manically. Trott presumed that it was open to the group chat, although he couldn’t be positive given the distance and the fact that Smith wasn’t exactly holding it still. “Taking Nano to prom?! Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“He thinks he’s Ross, I would assume.” Trott replied mildly, watching from where he had seated himself on his bed as Smith began to pace back and forth, breathing heavily. A bit too heavily to be the result of sheer anger, especially when paired with the beads of sweat that could be seen dripping down his face. “...Did you get off the fucking bus and literally sprint all the way back here?”

“Course I fucking did. I needed to blow off steam.” Smith snapped in response, and Trott just sighed and flopped back against his pillow to stare at the ceiling. Getting Smith to see reason when he was in a mood like this was never an easy task, so he figured that he might as well get comfy if he was in for the long haul.

“Do a few laps around my house, then. I don’t think you blew off enough.”

“I’ll blow _you_ off.” With Smith’s current tone, this came off as more of a threat than a genuine attempt at innuendo, but then, those two things often amounted to the same thing when it came to Smith. Trott shifted a bit on his bed in order to lean up against the headboard, watching as Smith carried right on walking back and forth at a frankly alarming speed.

“You’re gonna wear a hole into the floor at this rate.” Trott joked in an attempt at lightening the mood. Smith barely even regarded him and kept up his fevered pacing. “Mate, seriously. Stand still for one fucking moment and just _breathe.”_ To his surprise, this time Smith listened, stopping abruptly and staring down at the ground while taking in audible breaths. This uncharacteristic willingness to actually do as he was told instantly had Trott feeling legitimately concerned. Suddenly, it was painfully obvious that Smith’s reaction to this situation wasn’t just him blowing things out of proportion for the sake of dramatics; he really was that upset. “...You do realize this is almost certainly just a show for his parents, yeah?”

“Of course I bloody realize that. I’m not fucking stupid.” Smith replied, a bit more calmly than he had been before. Apparently that deep breathing was doing him some good. “What I don’t understand is why the hell he feels the need to put on a show in the first place! Why does he even _need_ a date? It’s not as if they’ve got to know the real details of it. What’s wrong with just going to a stupid fucking school dance with some mates?”

“I dunno. I think that’s something you’ll have to ask him, I’m not a mind reader.”

Smith finally moved his gaze up from the floor to look at Trott, brow creased in a frown. “How are you reacting so calmly to this? Don’t you feel even a little bit betrayed?”

“Not really. If he’d like to invite a girl to a dance, that’s his choice. It’s not as though this thing is exclusive.” Trott rather regretted his choice of words almost instantly as Smith’s expression darkened and he returned to his pacing, running a hand through his faded green hair as he did. “I didn’t mean- it’s just that we’ve never really discussed it, have we?”

When Smith didn’t answer him, Trott sat up, watching him quietly pace for several more seconds before hesitantly reaching out to wrap a hand around his wrist as he walked past. He half expected Smith to just tear his arm away and carry on, but instead he stopped in his tracks, taking another deep breath before speaking.

“I never really thought it _needed_ discussing.” He mumbled, voice low enough that Trott really had to strain to make out exactly what it was he was saying. “Dunno about you, but I’ve no interest in seeing anyone else.”

If he were honest, Trott could see exactly where Smith was coming from in saying this. Perhaps it was really just because talking about things was harder than not talking about them, but it had never seemed particularly necessary to talk about any aspect of the odd relationship the three of them shared. It was what it was, and that had seemed like enough. It was becoming apparent now that maybe defining things a bit more would have been a smart idea. Before Trott could say anything, Smith spoke up again, still in that quiet, mumbly voice.

“I don’t think his parents would care if he just told them. Do you?” He turned to meet Trott’s eyes again, looking rather pathetic. Apart from cases of annoyance and frustration, Smith wasn’t usually anywhere near this candid with his emotions, and despite the fact that he was clearly feeling miserable about the situation, Trott couldn’t help but feel a little bit pleased that he was willing to be so open.

“I don’t really think they would, but you can never know for certain how people will react to things. They could be fine with it, they could send him to the church to repent his sins. I sincerely doubt it’d be the latter, given they’ve never shown a hint of religious leanings before, but it’s a funny old world. Stranger things have happened.” As he spoke, he tugged Smith down to sit on the bed beside him before he could start pacing again. “Shall we tell him to get his ass over here, hash things out?”

Smith snorted in response to this and shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to see him right now. I’m liable to break his nose, and I think I’d prefer for his nose to stay straight and unbroken.”

If he was willing to joke- kind of? Trott wasn’t really entirely sure that this was a joke and not a legitimate warning- Smith must have been feeling at least a little bit better about things. Trott gave a soft laugh and moved to lie down again, raising his arms up over his head in order to rest his head on his hands. “I dunno, it could do him some good to get a nice left hook. I can imagine him with one of those bumpy noses you get from not healing a break properly. Might make him more ruggedly handsome, give his face a bit of character.”

Smith’s chuckle in response was rather humorless. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t necessarily feeling that much better after all. “Smith… What’s really bothering you about this?” Trott questioned in a quiet murmur. For a while, his friend didn’t answer. Eventually he moved to crawl up the admittedly rather narrow bed in order to flop down in the small space left between Trott and the wall. This resulted in Trott getting shoved rather dangerously toward the edge, but he didn’t complain about it. He didn’t want to do anything that would encourage Smith to stay clammed up.

“S’just… I know you’re likely right, and this is all just for show… but what if it doesn’t stay that way?” Smith questioned, finally settling in on the root of his anxieties. He turned onto his side as he spoke, propping his head up on his hand with his elbow on the bed, and loosely flung his free arm over Trott’s stomach. He was always incredibly tactile, and this was especially true at times like these. Trott knew he drew a lot more comfort from physical closeness than reassuring words. He made a bit of a face. “What if he decides he likes her? I don’t want her hanging around all the time. What if he decides he likes her more than us, even?”

“Don’t be daft, that isn’t going to happen.”

“It could! It’s a _funny old world_.” Trott glowered at Smith, a bit annoyed at him for twisting his own words back on him.

“Even if that were the case, I really don’t think _she_ has any interest in _Ross._ Fairly sure she doesn’t hang around blondie all the time because she wants chemistry tips off him.” He pointed out, finally earning himself a genuine laugh in response. Apparently he’d finally managed to hit on a point that Smith couldn’t really find an argument against.

“...Alright, I’ll give you that, yeah. Little Nano’s obviously gagging for that giant science D.”

Trott scrunched up his nose at this. “You really think Lalna’s packing down there?”

“Dunno, but for his sake I hope so. He’s rather tall, it’d be fucking embarrassing otherwise, just because of the proportions. Imagine if he’s got a tiny little winky. ”

Trott choked a bit, both from Smith’s choice of wording and the mental imagery that came with it. “Yeah, imagine if it’s smaller than _yours_. How fucking ridiculous would that be?”

Some people may have been offended by an insinuation like this, but Smith always took that sort of shit like a champ. “Oooh, well we can’t all have fucking monster cocks like you Trottimus! At least mine fits in my trousers! I don’t need to sew on a yard of extra fabric to each pair every time I shop for new clothes!”

It never ceased to amaze Trott that Smith somehow had the ability to win a volley of insults with something vaguely complimentary almost every damn time, and this had proved to be no exception. He cracked up, unable to think of a witty enough come-back. Smith obviously knew that he had won that particular battle, given the shit eating grin now plastered across his face.

“It’s a struggle I have to deal with every day. There aren’t even any support groups for dealing with a problem like this! No one’s willing to admit that their tremendous dick gets in the way of normal daily activities, like dressing, or riding bikes.” Trott put on a jokingly depressed tone, sniffling slightly for emphasis.

“Aw, Trotty, it’ll be okay. We’ll find the money for corrective surgery somehow. One day you’ll have an average sized cock, just like the rest of us.” Smith ‘comforted’, closing the hand that had just been hanging loosely at Trott’s side around his hip and pulling Trott a bit closer as he spoke. On one hand, Trott wasn’t in danger of falling off the bed anymore. On the other hand, he had now lost absolutely any personal space he may have been retaining, with the side of his body now flush against Smith’s. It was actually rather uncomfortable until he managed to worm an arm under the other teen’s body. This wouldn’t stay comfortable for long, once his arm inevitably began to fall asleep from the weight on top of it, but for now, he was quite content to stay like this.

“You’re so kind to me. Thank you. You don’t know how hard it is to find someone who won’t judge you for having the sort of dick that belongs on an elephant.” He commented in a wavering voice, bringing his free hand up to clutch his chest above his heart. “Knowing I’ve found you… It’s… it’s just the nicest-” He cut himself off with a fake sob.

“You know I love your monster cock. I wouldn’t care if you decided against having most of it chopped, but I also respect that it’s a personal decision.”

Trott hadn’t realized that his shirt had ridden up slightly until Smith’s thumb brushed up against a small patch of bare flesh on his side, causing an unexpected but not unwelcome shivery feeling to course through his body. His face softened from the over-the-top anguish he’d been putting on as he glanced down and simply watched the offending thumb dip up under his shirt to trace tiny circles on the skin there. He turned his attention to Smith’s face after a moment to find that the other boy was staring at him with a mostly serious expression, apart from the little quirk of his lip that revealed his lingering amusement.

“What, all this talk of monster cocks making you randy?” Trott questioned after a moment, his tone still joking despite the decided shift of the mood in his room.

“Nah. You’re making me randy just by existing.” Came the half teasing response, and Trott let out a laugh before leaning up to kiss him. His arm falling asleep immediately ceased being an issue as Smith shifted his weight so that he was half on top of him, one leg pushing in between Trott’s thighs.

It might have come as a surprise to most of their fellow students, given just how often and how loudly they engaged in innuendo laden banter and talked about one another’s privates, but the three of them had never really gone beyond some enthusiastic snogging. Trott couldn’t speak for the other two of course, but he knew for a fact that his personal anxiety about the prospect of things going below the belt had always been a lot higher than his brazen attitude might have implied. Things had, of course, gotten heated on occasion, but there had always been some reasonable or silly excuse to keep things from going any farther.

This time, though, something felt different. Perhaps he just hadn’t known how much he needed to hear that he wasn’t the only one with serious feelings about the other two. Maybe it had just taken him this long to really grow comfortable with the idea. Whatever the reason, when Smith’s wandering hands eventually found his belt buckle, he didn’t bat his hands away or try to come up with a dumb excuse to just go downstairs and play video games. Instead, he lifted his hips up off of the bed to give him easier access when it came time to slide it out of the loops, and carried right on kissing him, carding his fingers through his hair as he did.

His parents worked late most nights anyway.

***

Nilesy stared blankly at the textbook on the table in front of him, trying to figure out just how he had read an entire page about the import and export of material goods without retaining an ounce of the information on it. As much as he might have looked like a stereotypical nerd, his ability to actually concentrate on a goddamn thing he was supposed to be reading was obviously sorely lacking.

“Are you getting any of this?” He questioned, leaning back far enough in his chair to tip the front legs off of the ground before promptly sitting forward to lower them again upon making accidental eye contact with the rather annoyed looking librarian.

“Does it look like I am, Nilesy?” Panda asked in response, gesturing vaguely at his own textbook, which he had yet to so much as open, despite the fact that they had entered the library with every intention of cramming for their upcoming economics test well over an hour ago. Nilesy furrowed his brow, flicking his gaze back and forth between his friend and the book a few times.

“What’ve you even been doing this whole time, then?”

“Well, I was sleeping until you were rude enough to cough a few minutes ago.”

Nilesy regarded his friend for a long moment. “You’re more fuckin’ screwed than I am.”

“Just talking in class is a big part of the grade. I bullshit enough, I think I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s multiple choice.”

Nilesy rolled his eyes and took a moment to look around the library. Apart from a small group of kids that looked just about as bored and miserable with whatever subject they were studying as he and Panda were, the library had mostly emptied out by now. Truth be told, Nilesy had no intention of staying any longer either. His ability to concentrate was completely shot, and his study partner’s ability had apparently never existed in the first place.

“Let’s just go, then. This party’s dead anyway.” Nilesy joked, having a chuckle at his own utter hilarity. Panda, being the humorless git that he was, didn’t even laugh. “I think softball practice is still going.” Panda snorted at this, of course, despite there being nothing funny about the suggestion in the slightest.

“Oh, yes, let’s go watch the girls practice. I’m sure this has nothing to do with who’s on the team.” He drawled, getting to his feet and stuffing his book into his open bag on the floor, while Nilesy did the same. Nilesy, for his part, gave him an annoyed look.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Panda. I admire their athleticism, that’s all.” He defended, apparently not very believably as Panda rolled his eyes in response.

“I’m not saying we _can’t_ go watch your girlfriend hit a ball around. I’m just saying you should be up front about the reasons behind your desires.” Panda clarified as they made their way out of the building toward the softball field. Nilesy practically choked on his own spit.

“What the fuck, man! She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Who isn’t your girlfriend again?”

“Lomadia!”

“I don’t remember naming any names, Nilesy. Funny you should just assume that’s who I’m talking about.” Panda was cracking up now, and Nilesy suddenly realized that he’d screwed himself over with that particular conversational track.

“Well… who else would you have been talking about?”

“Any single one of the other girls on the entire team?”

“...Shut up.” Nilesy had lost that one, and he knew it, but that didn’t mean he needed to really admit defeat. The pair clambered up onto the bleachers to join the small smattering of other students that had gathered to chat and watch the school’s pride and joy of a team practice.

“Oh come on, mate. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush, why can’t you just admit it?”

“I’m not going to admit to a crush I don’t have.” Nilesy argued, his actions rather contradicting his words as he leaned forward to scan the girls on the field until his eyes finally fell upon their captain, who was currently up to bat. He couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face as she brushed a bit of hair out of her eyes that her ponytail had failed to keep back before gripping the bat with both hands once again.

“Because that isn’t the face of a dork with a crush.” Panda piped up beside him, and he turned to tell his friend off, only to find himself very suddenly on the receiving end of a fast flying ball to the side of the head.

The next thing he was truly aware of was lying on his back in the grass, staring up at the blurry faces of a small circle of people that had gathered around him. At first, he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t make out any detailed facial features. It was only when he reached a hand up to his face that he realized that the ball had apparently knocked off his glasses, on top of causing him to lose his balance and topple off of the bleachers.

“Did I fall off like a cool person, at least?” He questioned to no one in particular. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had asked, or what falling off of something like a cool person would look like.

“Very cool. You were like fucking James Dean.” A voice he recognized as Panda’s informed him, as the owner of the voice handed him another blur that turned out to be his glasses. He slid them on and was thankful to find that the inability to see had, fortunately, only been a result of losing them, and not a combination of that and a head injury. Although the dizzy feeling he got when he sat up was still rather worrying. As was the sight of Lomadia suddenly rounding the bleachers at a run, looking horrified.

“Oh my god, Nilesy, are you alright? Shit, I am so sorry!”

“You know my name?” Was Nilesy’s smooth response to being addressed by the girl that totally wasn’t even remotely the object of his affections. Nope. Said girl was now staring at him with an expression of utter confusion.

“Of course I know your name. I lived next door to you when we were kids. We’ve been in homeroom together for four years. Do you have a concussion?” Pushing past the small gathered crowd, she kneeled in the grass beside him before holding up a hand with three fingers raised. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Six.” He responded, regretting it a bit when her brow creased with worry. Now obviously wasn’t the time for his stupid jokes. “I’m only joking, it’s three. I’m fine, really. Just a teensy bit dazed.”

Lomadia seemed to accept this excuse and got to her feet before offering him a hand, which he hesitantly took. He couldn’t help noticing as she helped him up that her fingers were a bit calloused, although not off-puttingly so. He’d imagined they would be softer- not that this was something he often imagined or anything- although it seemed obvious that they wouldn’t be now that he thought about it, given that she played without gloves. Upon determining that he could, in fact, stand steadily on his feet without any aid, he awkwardly pulled his hand away to scratch at the back of his head.

“Erm. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your practice, you should get back to it.” He suggested, willing himself but utterly failing to break eye contact. She still had that worried look about her; he could imagine that hitting someone that hard in the head was probably enough to make a person feel a bit guilty.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I could walk you to see the nurse.”

“No, no! That’s quite alright, I’m fine. You’re busy, and I’ve got my comrade here to look after me.” He jerked a thumb in Panda’s direction, inwardly cursing himself at his use of the term ‘comrade’. Who the hell used words like comrade? Big dumb idiots, that’s who. “It’s fine. Totally _fine_. You should get back to your team, you know? We’ve got to be going anyway.”

Nilesy really didn’t know what to make of the almost disappointed look that crossed Lomadia’s face at this. “Are you sure you have to go? I swear, I won’t hit you in the face again.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Or anywhere else. I just generally won’t hit you again.”

“Loads of studying to do, you know how it is.”

Lomadia seemed to accept this excuse, although she still looked a bit less than happy. “Alright… well, I’ll see you in homeroom tomorrow then, yeah?” She hesitated for a moment, then turned around and jogged back onto the field to rejoin her team. Nilesy turned to look at Panda as the rest of the crowd dispersed, and scowled when he saw that his friend was barely containing a fit of laughter.

“Don’t you start.” He grumbled, even as Panda finally broke into unrestrained laughter.

“Oh, that was smooth, Nilesy. You’re the fucking smoothest. Can you give me tips for making the ladies swoon?”

“Why the hell do I hang out with you?” Nilesy asked as he turned one last time to watch Lomadia pick up her bat once again.

“I keep you humble.” Panda explained, grinning in amusement.

Nilesy sighed and walked off toward the parking lot.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Panda opted to follow, still laughing his ass off.


	3. Chapter 3

There was nothing Sips enjoyed after a long day of hard slacking at school quite so much as sitting on his ass, rolling up a joint, and watching Sjin tend to his little ‘greenhouse’.

The greenhouse was not, of course, a literal greenhouse. Sjin’s parents were a bit lax when it came to rules, but they would never have allowed him to keep up his operation if they had known about it. His plants were kept safely closed away in ‘Camelot’, the rather ostentatiously named fort that the two of them had claimed as their own back when they had been a couple of mischievous little scamps. It wasn’t even really a fort so much as an old, rather dilapidated shed that they had discovered about a mile into the woods that bordered the property that Sjin’s family lived on. Who the shed had originally belonged to, they never would know, but it was theirs now.

The shed had played several roles for them over the years. Initially, it had, in fact, been a castle, and the setting for many a game of knights of the realm. It didn’t actually gain its name until quite some time later, well after they had decided that knights were sissies and pirates were much cooler. Despite the fact that it was now a pirate ship and not a kingdom, Camelot had still seemed like a reasonable name, mostly because Sjin had just seen a television program on King Arthur and thought it wasteful not to use a name that would have once suited their needs so perfectly. Still later, their ship gained some imaginary rockets and took them around an imaginary galaxy rather than just an imaginary ocean.

These days, Camelot was once again nothing but an old shed, now full of marijuana plants and battery powered UV lamps, but it was still the place where their imaginations ran wild, and said marijuana was really only partly responsible for that. While neither Sips nor Sjin would ever put it into such corny words, Sips figured they were both kind of secretly in agreement that any place that had been home to so many epic adventures of the imagination had to have some leftover magic to it. They had all of their best ideas there- depending of course, on one’s definition of ‘best’.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’ve decided we should definitely fucking rig the voting for prom king.” Sips was saying as he took his leisurely time rolling up a joint, eventually lighting it and taking a long drag, which he held for several seconds before having a momentary coughing fit as he exhaled. “We could-” He paused, coughing a bit more and thumping a fist against his chest several times, as if this would actually do a fucking thing to help. After a few deep breaths, he carried on. “We could pull a fucking Carrie. Not with real blood because that shit’s fucking nasty, but maybe paint. Or I don’t know, pickle juice. Imagine a fucking bucket of pickle juice dropping on someone’s head. That might almost be worse than the blood would be.”

Sjin snorted from where he stood, carefully pruning dead and dying leaves off of his plants with a pair of clippers. “Pickle juice with some red food coloring. It’s a classic traumatising prank, you’ve got to keep some visual similarities.” After clipping off a few more leaves, he gave the plants one more once over, then headed over to flop down on the blanket Sips was currently seated on, looking at him expectantly. Sips contemplated refusing to share his joint for a moment, but that would have been a dick move even for him, given that the contents had been freely given to him from Sjin’s own harvest.

“You could’ve just fucking rolled your own, you lazy asshole.” He commented as he held the partially burned joint out for Sjin to take. Sjin simply leaned in and took a hit without removing the joint from Sips’ hand, his facial hair tickling the backs of his fingers slightly. “Wow, I was kidding but you really are a lazy sack of shit, aren’t you? What, do your hands not work?”

The only ‘answer’ Sjin gave in regards to this question came in the form of him leaning in close to Sips, only to exhale a lungful of smoke directly in his face. Sips coughed and wrinkled his nose in annoyance.

“Thanks.” He deadpanned. Sjin flashed a crooked grin and leaned back against the worn wood of the shed wall, chuckling to himself.

“You’re very welcome, my friend. Thought you could get a bit more of a hit off it, you know? Waste not, want not, I always say.”

“Since when have you ever said that?”

“Since now. I didn’t say I _have_ always said it, in the past. Just that I always say it, present tense. So that could start now. Waste not, want not!’

“You can be such a pedantic piece of shit.” Sips replied, giggling a bit despite his somewhat harsh words.

“When it suits me, yeah.” Sjin agreed, now laughing outright, crossing his legs as he got himself more comfortably situated. His knee bumped against Sips’ thigh, and Sips glanced down at the point of contact between the two of them before looking back up at Sjin, who had on an utterly innocent expression, as though he hadn’t just done that completely on purpose. It wasn’t terribly convincing.

Sips couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Sjin hadn’t made a move yet. His completely obvious signals of attraction had become more and more obvious over the years, and Sips had never known him to be particularly shy about his desires. By this point, it had really become a game born of curiosity for Sips. How long could Sjin possibly go without just flat out attempting to jump his bones, and how far could he be pushed without giving in to that temptation?

“Who should we name Prom King, then?” Sips was broken out of his reverie as Sjin spoke again, and he turned to regard him with a shrug.

“I dunno. We could boost fuckin’ Xephos’ ego even further. I can’t get over how fucking high and mighty he’s been since we got him that class President election.”

“We could do, but I reckon we could come up with better than that...” Sjin fell into silence for a moment, obviously musing on the problem at hand. Sips, being the asshole that he was, decided that now was a great time to up the stakes on his favorite game. He shifted over to flop onto his back on the ground, his head landing on Sjin’s lap. When Sjin looked down at him a questioning expression, he grinned right back up at him.

“Don’t let me disturb your brainstorming, man. I just thought you looked like a comfy pillow.” He fidgeted around for a moment, grimacing. “You’re really not. You’ve got the boniest fucking knees. Better pillow than the floor, though, I’ll give you that much. Like, the floor’s a zero out of ten, your legs are maybe a two point five.”

Sjin rolled his eyes, grabbing the joint from Sips’ hands just as he had been raising it to his lips and lighting it in order to take a long drag before handing what was left of it back to Sips to finish off. Sips glared up at him even as he did finish it off; carefully, so as to avoid burning his fingers.

“I’m so terribly sorry my bony legs aren’t the world’s comfiest pillow. Such a fucking tragedy.” Sjin commented dryly, laughing again as he did, which Sips found himself quickly joining in on. They may have been just a _teensy_ bit stoned.

“Wait- wait, no, I’ve fucking got it!” Sips yelled suddenly, thinking out loud before he could even really process his idea mentally. His abrupt change in volume caused Sjin to jump and accidentally knee him rather hard in the back of the neck, and that was quite enough of using Sjin as a pillow, he instantly decided. “Fuck, that hurt! Whatever, I’ve still got the best fucking idea!”

“Sorry!” Sjin’s latest apology was a bit more genuine than the last, although this time it wasn’t truly his fault. “Didn’t mean to do that, honestly. What’s this idea, though? Enlighten me, oh guru!”

Sip snorted loudly at the last bit, shaking his head vigorously as he tried to get control of his thoughts. “Nilesy. Fucking beanpole that hangs out with the furry and follows around owl girl like a fucking smitten puppy.”

“Why does occasionally wearing a hat themed after a panda qualify someone as a furry while having an owl hat just makes Lomadia ‘owl girl’?”

“You obviously know nothing about furries, Sjin. Bears are furry. Owls have feathers.”

“I don’t think pandas are even really bears.”

“You obviously don’t know shit about biology, either.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment before both of them burst into yet another fit of giggles.

“Why Nilesy, now?” Sjin questioned after he finally managed to get a handle on his laughter enough to speak. It took Sips a bit longer, but after a few deep breaths, he managed to get ahold of himself.

“You know owl girl’s gonna win queen. She’s popular as shit. He’ll fucking literally piss himself if he wins. We might not even have to soak him in fake pig blood. He’ll embarrass himself for us.”

Sjin’s barely stifled laughter started up again in earnest. “Oh, you are a bloody evil genius, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m the fucking best.” Sips declared, the picture of humility. There was nothing that quite boosted his ego like impressing Sjin did.

“You really are. God, I fucking love y- your twisted mind.” Sjin’s attempt to save that sentence at the last second couldn’t have been more obvious, although Sips didn’t call him out on it beyond giving him a bit of a smirk.

His secret mental game didn’t have any kind of logical scoring system, or a scoring system at all for that matter, but Sips was fairly sure he’d just earned himself at least ten points.

***

By the time first period arrived the morning after his decision to ask Nano to prom, Ross was already beginning to strongly regret his life choices. While he didn’t quite regret having asked her yet, he was starting to get there, and he had thoroughly come to the conclusion that simply texting Trott and Smith in order to tell them had been an utter mistake.

Trott was often rather difficult to read, and his text in response of ‘ _Good for you._ ’ had been enigmatic at best. Ross couldn’t for the life of him decide if this had been sarcastic or genuine, and the complete lack of an answer from Smith at all was more anxiety provoking than the angry phone call he’d half expected would have been. That anxiety only grew as he never heard anything more from either of them, and he was nervous as all hell to see them when he sat down to await their arrival in homeroom.

When Trott arrived shortly thereafter and flopped down onto a chair beside him as per usual, his relief was immediate; even more so when the smile he aimed at his friend was returned. Trott was never a particularly fake person, and Ross was confident that if he was pissed off, he certainly wouldn’t be smiling back at him right now.

“Alright, mate?” Trott questioned in a low voice, casting a glance in Ross’ direction.

“Fine, yeah…” He paused, unsure of if he really wanted to know the answer to his next question. “...You seen Smith at all?”

Ross’ nervousness only increased when his question was met with a somewhat awkward cough as Trott’s face flushed red. It was suddenly painfully obvious that there was something going on that he didn’t know about.

“Er, yeah.” His friend mumbled, eyes darting around the room for a moment before he made eye contact with Ross once again. “He came by mine last night. You’ve, uh... managed to put yourself on his shit list, I’m afraid. He’s not terribly happy.”

This wasn’t in the least bit surprising, and Ross had a strong feeling that there was even more to the situation than what he was currently hearing. He studied Trott for a long moment, while the other teen fidgeted slightly under the scrutiny, trying to figure out just what it was that had him acting so damn nervous.

His answer came just a moment later, when Trott’s gaze shifted to a spot above and behind Ross’ head, and that awkward, nervous look almost instantly changed into a downright giddy looking smile. He turned around to find himself looking at Smith, who was standing over him and looking right back at Trott with a mirrored expression. Smith’s almost gleeful look faded momentarily when he turned his attention to Ross. Saying nothing, he just rolled his eyes and walked past in order to sit down on Trott’s other side, scooting his chair close enough that their thighs touched. Without even a moment of hesitation, he reached up to take Trott’s chin in his hand, directing his face toward him and then leaning in to initiate one of the most enthusiastic kisses that Ross had ever seen. This did not fail to capture the attention of their homeroom teacher.

“Smith! You know the school's policy! Public Displays of Affection are _not_ tolerated in the classroom!”

Ross already felt a bit bad for their poor, rather elderly teacher before Smith even pulled away from Trott to answer him. With the rather uninhibited mood that Smith was obviously in, the results were bound to be ugly.

“Don’t be so fucking bitter, old man. I’m sure even you could get laid if you’d just put your bloody mind to it. Would it make you feel better if we let you film us for posterity? Give you some material for later? You could do with a bit of a wank to relieve some of that tension, at least.”

The short shouting match that ensued didn’t surprise Ross at all. Nor did the almost immediate decision on the part of their teacher to send Smith to see the principal. This was hardly the first time that he’d been sent for a well earned punishment before they’d even been in school an hour, although Ross had to admit, this particular incident had been the most theatrical yet. Even after Smith had vacated the room, he and Trott continued to get the occasional glance from their classmates for nearly ten minutes.

Ross waited for the whispering and stares to die down before finally confronting Trott about the theory he’d formed the moment he’d witnessed the way his two friends were looking at each other.

“...Did you two fucking _shag_ last night?” He questioned in a low voice, leaning in close enough so that only Trott could hear him. The slight choking noise that instantly emitted from his friend’s throat was telling enough that he knew he’d at least hit close to the mark on that one.

“I- well… No?” Trott whispered in response, not making eye contact with Ross. “We… we didn’t _shag._ He just, y’know, made the usual blowie jokes. Except he sort of… made good on the threat this time… and I might’ve jerked him off.”

Ross honestly had no idea how to respond to this revelation, or the fact that his stomach suddenly felt as though it was full of lead.

The thing he was feeling wasn’t outright jealousy, at least not in the most traditional sense. He wasn’t truly bothered that the other two had been intimate in the slightest. He was, however, immensely bothered that he hadn’t been there. He felt left out, and this was only made worse by the knowledge that he none of this would have happened at all if it weren’t for his own actions. He could have been there.

It was obvious from the guilty look Trott finally cast his way that his feelings about this news must have been more than evident on his face. Ross let out a sigh.

“Don’t give me that look, it’s not as though I’ve a right to complain.”

“Sure, but I can’t really blame you for being a bit put out about it. I’d have been if the situations were reversed.” Trott murmured fairly. “It’s… it’s not as though we planned it, y’know? It just sort of happened. Not like we left you out out of spite.” He paused for a moment, brow furrowing thoughtfully. “Well, no… having just been on the receiving end of a kiss that was blatantly given out of spite, it might have been on his end. Can’t really bring myself to feel badly about it, though. No offense. It was…” Another pause, as he took a deep breath and let it out, shutting his eyes. “It was something.”

“That’s wonderful, Trott. I appreciate your honesty.” Ross responded, rather sarcastically. Even if he knew he didn’t really have the right to be annoyed, that didn’t prevent him from actually _being_ annoyed. Trott turned to him with a grin, albeit a guilty one.

“Sorry. It’s just hard to get my mind off of it.” He admitted with a soft chuckle, prompting a heavy sigh from Ross. He went quiet for several seconds, obviously trying to shut up about it, before piping up again. “...I don’t know if he even has a gag reflex.”

“You’re really not helping.”

“I know. S’just, you should’ve been there.”

“Yeah, I think we’ve established that.”

Trott looked awkwardly at the table in front of him, then back at Ross. “I mean, if you’re feeling that left out, we could always skip second period. I wouldn’t be opposed to giving it a go. He made it look pretty fucking easy.”

“...First off, I don’t want fucking pity fellatio in the school toilets. Second, d’you think you could come up with a _less_ sexy way to offer it?”

Ross immediately regretted his choice of words when Trott leaned in closer to him and whispered in his ear, doing a damn near impeccable impression of what could best be described as an old cockney fisherman. “Alright, sunshine, what d’you say I slip out these here dentures and give that cock a right gumming?”

“Jesus christ, mate, that wasn’t a bloody _challenge!”_

Trott was still positively cackling when the bell that signaled the end of homeroom went off a minute or so later. Said bell couldn’t possibly have come soon enough.

Ross couldn’t recall a time he had looked forward to the drudgery of Geometry more than he did right at that moment.


	4. Chapter 4

Lalna knew that something was off from the moment that Nano flopped into a chair beside him at the start of their lunch period. She looked distracted, and while it would be a complete and utter lie to say that she never looked distracted (she was nearly as easily distracted as he was, and that was saying something), it wasn’t a ‘lost in thought’ sort of distraction this time. More of a perturbed one, and that had him feeling disconcerted almost immediately. He turned to stare at her rather openly as he finished chewing thoughtfully on his mouthful of sandwich.

It seemed as though she felt his stare before he could even question her, as she turned to meet his gaze, her brow furrowing slightly as she did. After a moment during which he felt as though he could see the hesitance in her eyes, her mouth fell open, as if to answer his unanswered question. Whatever she might have been planning to say, however, was interrupted by a bit of a ruckus from just beside the next table over.

“Would you just bloody _talk_ to me if you have a problem with what I’ve done?! We’re not children anymore, Smith! Talk to me like a goddamn adult!” Ross was saying in a raised voice, not quite yelling, but certainly loud enough to be heard by everyone seated at the tables around him and his two companions. The object of his attention appeared to be Smith, who was currently standing behind Trott with a stubborn look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. After a moment, he leaned down to the shorter teen in front of him, apparently whispering something- and making a show of nuzzling slightly at his ear as he did. Trott’s expression shifted from one of mild embarrassment at the stares they were receiving to one of vague annoyance.

“He, uh... “ Lalna had to strain a bit to pick up what Trott was saying, as he was speaking at a much more typical indoor voice volume, but they were sitting close enough that hearing wasn’t too hard now that he was paying attention. “He says that you should know a classic cold shoulder when you see one, and that he isn’t speaking to you. Apparently, if you have any further complaints to register, you can submit them through ‘his people’.” Trott paused to let out a very long, drawn out sigh. “...I think _I’m_ his people. You know, I’m with him on this one Smith, you could at least fucking talk to him.”

At this, he looked back over his shoulder at Smith, who gave him a look in response that said ‘fuck no’ almost as clearly as if he had literally spoken the words, before simply turning on his heel and marching right on out of the cafeteria, an obviously exasperated Ross hot on his heels. Trott stood awkwardly by himself a moment before accidentally making eye contact with Lalna, who raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. In response, he simply shrugged and turned in pursuit of his friends.

Lalna let out a snort, sitting back in his chair and setting his sandwich down on the tray in front of him before turning back to Nano with a smirk. “They’re absolutely mental, aren’t they? The hell do you think that was about?”

The guilty look that had crossed her face immediately piqued his interest, especially when she responded with an extremely unconvincing, “Oh, those crazy boys! Who knows with them, really. Could be just about anything, yeah?”

Lalna turned in his chair and leaned over so that he was eye level with the much shorter girl, narrowing his gaze. He knew he wasn’t terribly good at looking threatening, but it seemed to have been enough to push her already guilty conscience over the edge, as she fidgeted under the look for maybe three seconds before blurting out, “It’s just that Ross has asked me to go with him to prom- you know, as his sort of date type thing and all- and I have a feeling the others aren’t terribly happy about the situation.”

Sitting up abruptly, Lalna frowned down at her for a moment before letting out a chuckle and shaking his head. Her words had initially bothered him for some reason, but he quickly saw just how silly that was. “They’ll get over it. It’s not as though you’ve said yes. He’ll realize what a silly thing that was to do and go grovelling for their forgiveness.”

The sinking feeling he had been feeling slightly from the moment that Nano had arrived worsened when her guilty look didn’t fade at all. She looked up at him, biting slightly at her lower lip. “Well, might not work itself out so quickly as all that, given that I have said yes.”

...Well, that was a bit of a blow to the old ego, if Lalna was honest. He’d always been fairly certain that her blatant flirting in response to his own was a sign that his rather obvious affections were returned. It would seem that he had thought wrong, unless this was just a case of too little action too late. He thought about just flat out admitting his feelings then and there, or at the very least telling her that he could suddenly understand exactly where Smith had been coming from, even if he wasn’t rude enough to give someone the cold shoulder over something like this.

“You aren’t going to come to my party this year?” Was what came out instead, although his voice sounded rather more wounded than he had intended for it to.

“I’m sorry, Lal!” She said immediately, and for what it was worth, she sounded as though she genuinely meant it. “He really… begged more than asked. I wouldn’t be going otherwise, you know. I’ll still be at the party, I’m not going to stay for the whole deal.”

If this had been meant as a reassurance, it really didn’t feel like it. Now he just felt as though he was guilting her into coming to his get together, which was the last thing he wanted. Even if he did certainly want her to be there. After a moment he let out a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound too terribly forced. “Nah… you should stay to the end. Get the whole prom experience! One of us should before we graduate. We can compare notes, after, so I’ll know what classic teen shenanigans I’ve missed out on. Anyway, the party’ll still be there waiting after things wind down, if you do decide you want to show up.”

His own mood was lifted slightly as her guilty expression began to fade, shifting into a bit of a hesitant smile instead. Part of him might have been an irrational ball of jealousy and regret, but he couldn’t be truly unhappy about anything so long as she was smiling because of something that he had said.

“Yeah? You really won’t be bummed out if I don’t show until late?”

“Of course not. You’re not my _only_ guest, you know.” He replied with a wink, laughing at the offended look on her face, before clarifying, “You’re my _favorite_ guest, but I’ll survive a few hours without you, promise.”

“You are _such_ a buttface.” She commented, giving him a light jab in the ribs with her elbow before hopping to her feet, presumably to get in line for her own lunch. Lalna let out a dramatic groan, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot she had elbowed and pouting.

“You’ve wounded me! You vicious, cruel young thing, you!” He put on his best dramatic voice, which wasn’t very good, truth be told. He always giggled too much when he attempted to ‘act’. She rolled her eyes and gave him a condescending pat on the head.

“Yeah, yeah. Walk it off, baby.”

He was still giggling even as she walked off to get in the lunch line, but that giggling soon ceased to be replaced with silence and a frown. Lalna had never in his young life given a shit about things like prom, but suddenly, he found himself wishing that he had. If he’d cared a bit more, he could have asked her first.

***

Rythian could not even begin to understand how this had happened.

He liked to consider himself a strong person. The master of his own destiny, perhaps, even if that was a bit of a heavy handed way of putting it. He was not, therefore, the type to simply allow himself to be dragged around. Yet for the second time this week, that was exactly what he now found happening.

The first time, at least, had been understandable. When Xephos had showed up near the end of the drama club’s practice, begging for the behind the scenes crew to help him with prom preparations, it would have been far too difficult to say no. The student body was depending on them, and besides, Zoey had given him that look of hers that he had never yet been able to refuse.

...Okay, so perhaps, just maybe, he had a crimson haired weak spot. That would also help to explain how he now found himself sitting outside the row of dressing rooms at a small boutique; the only representative of his gender that could be found in the little gathering there.

“This was supposed to be a _girls’_ afternoon, Zoey.” Nano commented, giving Rythian a bit of a side eyed glance. “No offense, Rythian, but you’re no girl.”

“Believe me, I’m not offended.” Rythian replied mildly, leaning back in his seat and looking around at the circle of young women standing about him. Only Zoey, who had insisted on bringing him along in the first place, seemed particularly pleased at his presence. Fiona clearly didn’t care either way, if her utter obliviousness to the conversation at hand in favor of perusing a display of headbands was any indication. Nano and Lomadia, though, seemed a bit put out by the whole thing, as the latter had nodded in agreement with Nano’s words. “I did say it might be a tiny bit awkward if I came along, but-” He waved a hand in Zoey’s direction, as if that said everything that needed to be said. In his opinion, Zoey’s existence was answer enough to most questions of this sort.

“I wanted his opinion!” Zoey defend, reaching out to take hold of the end of the dark purple scarf that was draped loosely around Rythian’s neck and holding it up a bit. “Look at him. I’m not knocking my own style- I’m fabulous as heck- but he’s always looks so dramatic. You’re so dramatic, Rythian! We need some of those elegant sensibilities.”

Nano still didn’t seem entirely convinced by this, but Lomadia gave another nod and turned to join Fiona in checking out the headbands. “Fair enough. I’ll grant that he does obviously have good taste.”

“I always trust his fashion advice.” Fiona commented amiably as she tugged a bright purple headband off the display and used it to put her wavy mess of curls into some semblance of order before turning to look at him. “What d’ya think, Ryth?”

“It’s a good color on you?” He said after a moment of hesitation, still feeling rather out of his element. He hardly considered himself a fashion guru, and he still wasn’t entirely sure why his presence there had been so important to Zoey. Surprisingly, this seemed to be the right thing to say, as Nano squinted at the headband in question for several seconds, then turned and gave him a thumbs up.

“It is a good color! Alright, I approve.” That said, she darted off into the various racks of dresses. Rythian turned to Zoey in confusion.

“...What did I do to win _that_ approval?”

“Probably just reminded her that you like the color purple, to be honest. It’s pretty easy to win her favor, really, just not so easy to win it back when you’ve lost it.” Zoey replied with a giggle, wrapping an arm around Rythian’s shoulders to give him a quick one armed squeeze before letting go of him again. He looked over to see her smiling brightly at him, and held back a sigh, instead just giving her a smile in response.

Rythian wouldn’t have given up having Zoey for a best friend for all the world, but sometimes, little things like a friendly hug from her made that friendship incredibly difficult for him.

Once upon a time, they had been dubbed the Romeo and Juliet of the drama club. In hindsight, this hadn’t exactly been a good omen for the longevity of their romantic relationship. Perhaps things might have turned out better if their fellows had taken to calling them Benedick and Beatrice.

Still… parting on amiable terms because one member of the relationship realized that her feelings were platonic was a much better ending than they _could_ have had with nicknames like that, all things considered. Not that it made it any easier to watch as she hopped to her feet in order to link arms with Fiona, dragging her current girlfriend away from the headbands in order to join Nano in looking at the selection of dresses. He watched her go, then looked away, only to make eye contact with Lomadia, who was staring at him with a knowing expression.

“You’ve still got it bad, haven’t you?” There was no pity in her voice when she spoke, and he appreciated that. He didn’t want pity- there were many worse things in the world than unrequited love, and as unpleasant as it might have felt, he didn’t really consider it _worth_ pity. It was simply a fact of life. “You could tell her, you know. I’m sure she’d be understanding.”

“What would that achieve? Knowing would only make things uncomfortable for her.”

“Maybe, but aren’t things already uncomfortable for you? Might ease things for the both of you in the long run.” The blonde girl pointed out, taking a seat beside Rythian and seemingly studying him for a long moment. “You don’t have to be some classic, suffering hero about it. Talking about stuff is good.”

“You sound as if you’re talking from experience.” Rythian noted, quirking an eyebrow at her when she responded with a laugh.

“Not really, to be honest. I’m sort of talking out my ass a bit, admittedly.” She murmured quietly, a sideways grin on her face. “So I can’t say for sure that this advice would work in practice, but I think it’s fairly sound in _theory_ at least.” She laughed again, and Rythian found himself joining in with a soft chuckle.

“Well, at least you’re _honest_ about the fact that you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Rythian, my friend, none of us have the foggiest what we’re talking about half the time. All that matters is that you _sound_ like you do.” She gave him a bit of a wink before getting to her feet. “Come on then, why don’t you make your fashionable self useful and help me pick out a dress? For the record, purple is nice and all, but I rather prefer shades of blue, myself.”  

“Shades of blue it is.” He replied with another chuckle, getting to his feet and following Lomadia into the racks in search of all things blue.

He’d been brought along for a purpose, after all. He might as well help serve it.

***

_\- Practice tonight in my garage! Best seat in the house has your name on it if you want, Strifeykins!!!_

Strife stared down at the text that had just appeared on his phone, followed shortly by an image attachment. Said attachment was simply a shot of a pile of milk crates full of all manner of assorted junk. He shut his eyes with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to curb the instant surge of annoyance that he felt upon seeing it. Now was not the time to get annoyed. With prom on the committee's shoulders, he actually needed Parv and his idiot friends, and if that meant sitting on a probably dangerous pile of rubble, well, he’d do it. He was a professional, and the fact that he’d failed to win the vote for president didn’t mean that he should stop acting professional and doing his part. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes once again and texted back.

_-That doesn’t look like safe seating, Parvis. Are you sure it’s up to code?_

The response this text got within only a few seconds was about what he had been expected. Namely another image attachment, this one containing a selfie of Parv making an exaggerated frowny face at him. Sighing again- he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, didn’t he?- Strife pressed the call button next to Parv’s name and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Helloooo!” Came the enthusiastic greeting less than three seconds later. “Are you coming to see us? We can wait to start until you get here!”

“No thanks, Parvis. You can go ahead with your practice, I have a student council meeting in a few minutes.” As if on cue, Xephos entered, opening his mouth to greet Strife, who held up a finger to indicate that he needed a minute. “That’s what I’m calling about, actually. Did I tell you they put us in charge of putting the prom together this year?”

“Nope! That should be fun!” Parv responded, a bit distractedly. The sound of a guitar being tuned coming through the earpiece of the phone was the most likely reason for this.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it should be an absolute blast. I volunteered to find the entertainment, and I thought maybe you could help me out with that. I know you and your guys will play pretty much anywhere that will have you, and you’re better than a DJ we would have to pay for, so I was thinking perhaps you could have a word with them about playing for prom. They’re alumni, so it shouldn’t be a problem getting it approved by our faculty advisor.” As he spoke, Parv gave the occasional noise to the affirmative, giving Strife the impression that he had been listening. When he finished his proposal, however, Parv said absolutely nothing in response.

“Parv!”

“Oh, sorry, I got a teensy bit distracted, what?”

“Were you listening to a word I just said?”

“Uh… Yeah, of course, prom and all that!”

“Okay, good, so you’re up for it?”

There was a stretch of silence on the other end the line before Parv answered loudly enough that Strife had to pull the phone away from his ear. Xephos glanced up from a paper he had been looking over curiously.

“Of fucking course I’m up for it! Thought you’d never ask! Always sort of hoped, though!”

“Great. I’ll let you know more of the details later, our meeting should be starting any minute.”

“Okay. I can’t wait! Talk to you soon, Strifey.”

Strife hung up the phone, then turned to look at Xephos, who had a strange expression on his face. “That’s our entertainment nailed down. What’s next on the agenda?” That strange expression revealed itself to be barely concealed amusement as Xephos’ lips quirked into a smirk. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Are you absolutely _certain_ you just nailed down our entertainment?”

“Of course I’m certain, I literally just got off the phone with Parvis about it.”

“Oh, I’m not denying that. Just pointing out that it sounded less to me like you confirmed the entertainment and more like you just got yourself a date.”

Strife looked down at the new text that had just appeared on his phone, which consisted of nothing more than a heart and a winky face emoticon, and let out yet another sigh.

“...Ah, crap.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day today, pretty much! Apparently when I get going, sometimes I just can't stop. 
> 
> The first bit of this managed to get a bit on the NSFW side. I wouldn't personally call it full on smut, but it's certainly got a few smutty aspects, so fair warning there.

Smith knew that he wasn’t exactly the picture of maturity. He knew, logically, that not talking about what was bothering him was only going to make this whole mess with Ross slowly fester until he simply never spoke to him again out of an absurd sense of stubbornness, or things would blow up even more out of proportion than they already were and a full on fist fight would ensue. Neither option was ideal, and their current situation was absolutely not ideal either.

People- even strangers they only knew from passing in the halls- were beginning to notice. The three of them had been more or less inseparable, and it was admittedly hard _not_ to notice when ‘those three guys’ suddenly became ‘those two pairs of guys where the poor little one is awkwardly forced to play double duty’.

Trott was a saint, really, despite the fact that Smith hadn’t spoken to Ross in nearly a week. Smith wasn’t blind to the fact that this stupid drama was beginning to wear on Trott, and it would surely only be a matter of time before even his seemingly endless patience wore too thin. For now, though, he was being a lot more fair to both ends of the argument than Smith was being, that was for sure.

Ross wasn’t doing this to be cruel, or to try to spite them, and Smith knew that. Still, the fact that he’d gone ahead with his plan to just find another date to the prom had hurt. It didn’t matter that it was just a silly school dance, or that the given date most likely meant absolutely nothing to him; it was the principle of the matter, and yeah, maybe Smith’s rather sadistic streak meant that he wanted him to hurt right back. Was that so wrong?

...Well, it probably _was_ wrong, but Smith couldn’t really bring himself to change his mind because of a silly little thing like morality. Even if he did feel just a little bit bad for using Trott as his most frequent weapon of choice in his revenge plans. Such as right at that particular moment.

“Should we- should we really be doing this here?” Trott questioned haltingly, voice breaking in favor of a somewhat pained grunt as Smith shoved him rather roughly against the brick wall outside the back entrance to the school, which lead to the student parking lot. Smith didn’t answer verbally, instead just shutting him up with a hard kiss that Trott reciprocated after only a moment of hesitation.

Eventually, they broke apart for air, and Smith redirected his attention to Trott’s neck, starting with light kisses just beneath his ear and eventually trailing down to suck a mark where the neck of his t-shirt had shifted to reveal a bit of his collarbone. Trott was starting to breathe a bit hard now, even panting a bit, and despite his ulterior motives, Smith couldn’t help a low chuckle of amusement that he’d managed to bring about such a reaction from him so quickly. He pulled back for a moment, flicking his gaze to the doorway to make sure that the victim of this little display had yet to come through the doors, then turning his attention back to Trott with a smirk and leaning in close to his ear.

“Look at you, you little _slut._ I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re already fuckin’ gagging for it.” He murmured quietly, taking one last glance toward the door before deciding that for now, the boy in front of him deserved his full attention and concentrating on nipping the sensitive skin below his ear. “Or is this less to do with the who and what and more to do with the where? Have I got a fucking exhibitionist on my hands here?”

“Twat.” Was the breathy response, which Smith took as indication that his latter guess was probably correct. Trott certainly wasn’t denying it, was he?

“No need for rude names, mate, I’m not judging your kink. I’ll even help you indulge in it.” Before Trott could argue, he brought a hand between them to cup at the growing bulge he could feel even through his friend’s jeans. “Is that a _boner_ I feel? For shame, Trott, we’re in _public.”_

It seemed that Trott no longer had the wherewithal to come up with a comeback, as his only verbal reply was a low moan, and he flung an arm around Smith’s neck, presumably for the physical support this provided, as Smith suspected he might just be going a bit weak in the knees.

He laughed and leaned in to kiss him again, only to notice out of the corner of his eye that the door had, in fact opened, and the one who had done the opening was not a random stranger, but Ross himself. As expected, given that Smith had started this directly in the path to the parking lot, about five minutes before the time that Ross _always_ ducked out of class early to go to his car.

Rather than doing what any normal human being would do upon being caught like this, and, say, stopping, he simply adjusted his aim to kiss Trott’s throat once again instead of his lips, making a point of locking eyes with Ross as he did so. Ross, for his part, just stood there staring right back at him without breaking the shared gaze, seemingly too surprised by what he had just walked right up to to speak. That is, until Smith gave the bulge still cupped in his hand a squeeze, and Trott bucked his hips against him instinctively, letting out a considerably louder moan than the first. That was seemingly where Ross drew the line, as he seemed to come back to his senses, crossing his arms over his chest and clearing his throat loudly.

The panic was more than evident on Trott’s face when he shoved Smith off of him, looking around wildly as he did his best to rearrange his rumpled clothing and stand so that the obvious hard on he was still sporting wasn’t too obvious. Smith chuckled to himself, thinking that he was probably glad for the relative concealing properties of jeans. The panicked look subsided when Trott saw that it was only Ross, to be swiftly replaced by one of utter annoyance that he directed at Smith.

“You _planned_ this!”

“Yeah, so what? S’just a bit of fun with an added bonus of him seeing what he’s missing.” Smith argued, gesturing vaguely at Ross without bothering to look at him.

“No, it isn’t! It’s you using this-” He pointed a finger back and forth between himself and Smith. “-to punish him when you should be fucking dealing with the issue! You’re not dealing with it, you’re only making it worse!”

“I’m not jealous, for the record. You two can shag all you like.” Ross piped up, a bit unconvincingly. It was enough to make Smith feel justified in his actions, that little edge of jealousy, but Trott’s sudden burst of anger was making him wonder if it had been worth it.

“Shut up, Ross. You’re not free of fucking blame here either. You might actually be working to fix things, but there wouldn’t be anything to fucking fix in the first place if it weren’t for you!” Trott’s glare was fixed on Ross now, for which Smith was grateful. “And _for the record_ , we have not fucking shagged, and before _you_ say anything-” That glare was back on Smith now, and he swallowed slightly and took an instinctive step back, really thrown off by the fact that his admittedly rather long suffering friend was delivering such a rant. “-we aren’t _going_ to be shagging in the foreseeable future! God, you’re both just such gigantic fucking _assholes_. Talk to me once you’ve fucking talked to each other.”

Without another word to either of them, Trott turned and stomped away, not granting them so much as a glance back as he did. A silence stretched out for several long seconds before Ross broke it, awkwardly reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck as he did.

“Erm… D’you want a ride home? I’m going that way. Obviously.” Before this fiasco, carpools had been a daily thing for the three of them, given that Ross was the only one of the group with a car.

“No.” Smith responded with a roll of his eyes before heading toward the bus pickup in the same direction that Trott had gone, hoping to catch up with him. He’d said to talk to him once Smith and Ross had spoken, after all.

He hadn’t indicated in any way that Smith had to say more than one word.

***

Lomadia had always appreciated the fact that, compared to her peers at least, her life was relatively drama free. She did well in her courses, was star of the softball team, and had friends who she loved that loved her back. Her good luck in life did, however, make her feel just a little bit inadequate at times when it came to helping said friends with their own troubles.

“I just don’t know what to _do,_ Lom. I’ve only got a few days left to figure things out and then it’s prom and I’ll just have to go through with it or stand the poor bastard up!” Nano said as she flopped back onto Lomadia’s bed.

They were supposed to be studying for an upcoming history quiz, but the poor girl was clearly under so much stress that the history books had been tossed aside almost immediately in favor of simply sitting on the edge of Lomadia’s bed by her television to bust a few caps in some virtual zombie asses. It had seemed to be doing its job as a stress reliever, but if Nano’s sudden outburst was any indication, her worries had stayed in the back of her mind the entire time, just simmering there.

Sighing slightly, Lomadia set down her own controller and flopped back to lie down beside her best friend, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “Alright, well… Let’s just weigh the pros and cons here, shall we? What are the pros of going with Ross to prom?”

“Er, well… I’ll get a free dinner. That’s a pro. And he’s promised me he’ll get me a good corsage, which is… something?” She blew air loudly out through her lips, apparently deep in thought. “I think that’s it, really. Well, that and feeling like a good person, by doing someone a favor… Plus, I don’t know… I guess if you look at him right he’s _kind of_ cute?”

“Ross is a perfectly good looking guy, we’ll let that last point stand despite the fact that you couldn’t seem to decide on it yourself.” Lomadia agreed after a moment, before sitting up to grab her discarded notebook off of the end of the bed and shifting to lie down on her stomach, drawing a simple chart on a clean page and jotting down the things that Nano had listed. “Right then- so what are the cons?”

“I’ve become Yoko Ono, from the looks of things.” Nano said immediately. When she saw the confused look that crossed Lomadia’s face, she cracked up, a bit too hysterically. “No, I’m serious! Have you seen the way his little boyfriends have been looking at me? I think Smith might be plotting to murder me in my sleep, I’ve started keeping an old bit of piping from my basement under my bed.”

Lomadia stared for several more seconds before turning back to the chart and adding ‘ _Yoko Ono_ ’ and ‘ _Possible Murder?_ ’ to the cons list. “Are those the only downsides? Because really, The Beatles would’ve broken up anyway, and I don’t think Smith is quite capable of murder.”

“Well, no, I mean…” Nano went rather quiet, and Lomadia glanced over at her to see that she was biting slightly at her lip. “I’ll miss part of Lal’s party if I go.”

And here they had obviously stumbled upon the real issue at hand. Lomadia knew fully well that he friend had an enormous crush on the big blonde science nerd, even if Nano had yet to admit it even to herself. It was a _bit_ obvious.

“Alright, let’s break that one down a bit further. What are you missing at Lalna’s party by being a few hours late?”

“Fun?”

“...Well, if I add that, I’m adding it under the prom pros as well. Because it is fun, even if you’ve had this weird aversion to it.”

“Alright, fine, um… There’s not going to be any alcohol at prom?”

“Do you even drink?”

“No, not really… but I do usually imbibe at Anti-Prom. Lalna’s just so creative with his offerings, they usually don’t even taste like booze!”

“...I’m not sure missing out on that is a con, then, really. That’s the most dangerous kind of drink you know. You might be better off waiting on those until after you’ve had that free meal.”

“That’s a valid point…” At this admission from Nano, Lomadia crossed out the ‘booze’ part of the con’s list. “I don’t know, um… the start of the bonfire? Watching it get lit is so exciting and not boring and tedious at all?”

“You’re grasping at straws a bit, aren't ya?”

Nano snorted and gave a bit of a nod. “I know. I totally am. I mostly just… I mean, it’s tradition. I’d feel like I was missing out on something. And I guess I just don’t want to hurt Lalna’s feelings. He seemed sort of upset when I told him about it.”

“...Are you sure he was upset about you being late and not about, oh, I don’t know, something else?” Lomadia questioned after a moment, hoping that Nano wasn’t really as thick as she was letting on.

“...Like what?”

So much for that hope, although in fairness, she might have been being willfully ignorant.

“Nevermind. Honestly, it seems to me like with this list, prom is the obvious choice. You did make a commitment already, and it won’t stop you from going to the party afterwards, now will it?”

Nano gave a thoughtful humming noise, still seeming unconvinced. “No, I suppose not.” Sighing, she reached for a random old yearbook off of Lomadia’s bedside table, obviously trying to concentrate on just about anything other than the decision that she now found herself being faced with. After a few seconds, she let out a laugh. “Oh my _gosh,_ Lom, look how little we are!”

The drama of the upcoming dance apparently forgotten, she rolled onto her stomach beside Lomadia, plopping the open book down on the bed in front of them. Lomadia had found it other other day while doing some tidying, but she hadn’t really bothered looking inside until now, and suddenly she found herself laughing alongside Nano.

“That is literally the worst class photo I think I’ve ever seen. Oh my god, look at the bloody braces on Sjin! I forgot about those, it’s no wonder the asshole has such nice teeth.”

“I was too busy looking at the hair on little you and me. Bit retro even for the times, really. Did we style each other, you think? Or did we let Zoey do it?”

“Judging by the fact that our’s is horrendously teased while her’s actually looks fairly decent and almost professionally crimped? I’m gonna go with no, we had no fashion input from Zoey that day.” Lomadia decided with a chuckle as she turned the page onto the individual photos for their grade. “Oh jesus, it’s even worse close up.”

“Aww, that’s _mean._ Who did that??” Nano questioned, pointing to one little portrait in particular, namely of a very young Nilesy. It had been doodled on quite thoroughly, and not in a terribly nice manner, in two different colors of pens.

“I might have a bit of an idea.” Lomadia commented dryly before flipping to the back of the book where she had, once upon a time, hunted down the signatures of everyone in their grade. It only took a few seconds to find the distinctive shades of orange and blue scrawled across a large portion of the page. “Sips and Sjin. Of course it was _those_ assholes.” Rolling her eyes, she flipped back to the actual photo sections, letting the book fall open onto a two page collage spread of candid shots. The two girls fell silent for a time as they simply looked over the collection of memories on display there, before Nano let out another little laugh.

“Oh, look at you! That’s so cute, I forgot what little buddies you and Nilesy used to be.” She said, pointing to a picture of the two of them apparently failing absolutely miserably at running a three legged race. The reason for that was obvious when one looked ahead in the photograph, which revealed a laughing Sips and Sjin pulling into the lead.

“I never understood why they were such dicks to him.” Lomadia commented with a sigh. “They were always perfectly cordial to me when he wasn’t around… well, as cordial as they’re capable of being, at any rate.”

“They’re dicks to most people, really. They’ve always been utter dicks to me, too. Guess you just got lucky.” Nano murmured thoughtfully, squinting down at the picture again. “He was lucky to have you, really. I can’t imagine the torment he’d have gotten otherwise. He’s always had that sort of… wounded gazelle on the serengeti thing going, hasn’t he? Makes him an easy target.”

As much as she wanted to disagree with this pronouncement, Lomadia had to admit that Nano had a perfectly valid point, especially about Nilesy being an easy target. He _had_ always been Sips and Sjin’s favorite target practice dummy…

***

_...It was a glorious day to hang out in the treehouse, really. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the neighbors were screaming..._

_“Lom! Lom, throw down the ladder!!!”_

_Okay, so that last part hadn’t been so pleasant. Lomadia sat up, setting aside the summer reading book she had been working on, and crawled over to the peephole built in to the wall of the treehouse. The one screaming in apparent distress was, predictably, Nilesy._

_“What’s happened now?” She yelled down, even as she unrolled the rope ladder that allowed access into their little clubhouse. Nilesy made his way up it slowly, nearly slipping a few times as he did, and by the time he clambered up onto the wooden floor of the treehouse, Lomadia could obviously see why._

_He was absolutely soaked, with his sodden clothes dripping all over the floor. She scooted her book out of the line of fire with a foot and took his streaked and fogged up glasses off of his face for him, rubbing them clean on her own shirt before offering them back to him. It wasn’t as though he was going to be able to get them clean with his shirt soaked as badly as it was._

_“The S. S. Sjips is practicing with their new artillery.” He mumbled, sounding rather downtrodden. “Sjin’s got a water balloon launcher. I walked by his house.” As he spoke, he leaned partway out the open window, attempting to wring out his shirt. It wasn’t working very well, or doing anything to prevent the small pool of water building up on the wood floor beneath him. He seemed to realize the situation was useless, as he pulled his head back in almost immediately._

_Or rather, Lomadia thought that might be the reason. She realized that this was not the case a moment later, when a bright blue projectile came whizzing through the open window, where it exploded onto the floor in a large splash of water. She noticed to her utter dismay that her book, which she had nearly been done with, was soaked. She had half her upper body out the window within moments, waving the sodden reading material around. “You little wankers are going to pay for this!” She yelled down, ignoring Nilesy’s little gasp at her rude word. “I mean that literally! I’m not paying the library for a new copy, that’s on your bloody heads!”_

_“Well tell your little boy toy to stay off our turf, then!” Sjin yelled back, tugging on the rubber strap of his water balloon launcher, although he didn’t actually let go to launch the balloon in it, as of yet. “He’s the one that invaded our territory, this is just retaliation!” Sips nodded lazily from his position beside Sjin, eventually turning to look at his obnoxious partner in crime._

_“Let ‘em have it, Sjin!” He ordered in a rather unenthusiastic yell. Sjin immediately did as he was told, letting go and launching another water balloon. This one exploded on the outer wall above the window, raining water down on Lomadia’s head._

_“That is IT!” She yelped, before climbing out and jumping from the thankfully rather low platform. It was high enough to send a painful jolt through her body as she hit the ground, and she could have twisted her ankle pretty badly with a poor landing, but it had the desired effect; namely causing Sips and Sjin to regard her with eyes full of fear. Those already wide eyes only widened as she picked up a decently sized branch off of the ground before advancing towards them in the most threatening manner that could reasonably be mustered by a twelve year old girl- albeit one who was already quite tall for her age._

_The invading force grabbed hold of their launcher and fled like the cowards that they were, prompting Lomadia to drop the stick and brush off the bits of dirt and grass that she had managed to pick up in her jump from the window. She realized now as she walked back toward the treehouse that she was limping slightly- apparently her landing hadn’t been quite ideal, but it wasn’t too bad either, and honestly? Getting rid of those idiots was worth a little bit of pain._

_Nilesy was waiting at the opening when she reached the top to help pull her up, staring at her with wide eyes. “That was mad! What in the heck were you thinking?!”_

_“I was thinking that no one’s allowed to mess with you except me, yeah?” She responded with a laugh, giving him a playful shove to punctuate this point. The worried looking expression on his face gave way to a grin._

_“Ah, who cares what they do? They don’t matter. They’re just a couple o’ real dummies.”_

_“Funny enough, Nilesy, I care.” She replied with a snort as she wrung out her hair, not bothering to use the window. The floor was already soaked as it was, what would a little more water hurt? Once she’d got it as dry as she possibly could, she moved to flop heavily onto her rear in a dry-ish corner, rubbing slightly at her sore knee. Nilesy moved to sit down near her, although he did give her a fair amount of space- a fact she was glad for, as he was still quite a bit more soaked than she was._

_“Well, thanks for that.” He mumbled, a bit awkwardly, as he stared down at the growing puddle of water underneath him. He seemed hesitant to say what he eventually did say next.  “I dunno what I’m gonna do when you leave.”_

_“What’s that even mean, then? I’m only moving across town. It’s a ten minute drive, and I’ll see you in school every day. They start messing with you too much, you just let me know and I’ll see to it they get what they deserve for it.”_

_“Nah, I don’t mean because of them.” He clarified after a moment, not meeting her eyes. He seemed utterly fascinated by that puddle of water. “I just mean… Well, s’pose I mean I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.”_

_If he had more to say on the subject, he didn’t share it. Lomadia studied him for a moment with a frown before he looked up at her, any melancholy having vanished from his face to be replaced with a grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ve gotta get me some dry clothes. We’ve got work to do.”_

_Chuckling slightly, Lomadia got to her feet along with him. “Oh yeah? What’s this work we’ve got, then?”_

_“I’ve got these plans I’ll have to show you. Blueprints, if you will. We’re going to put this tree on a set of ruddy wheels! Then you won’t have to leave it when you move!”_

_“That’s… not going to work, Nilesy.”_

_“Yeah, yeah it will! You’ll see. We’ve just got to dig it up put it in a big enough plantpot, then put that plantpot on wheels! It’s simple, you silly thing!”_

_Despite the absolutely batty nature of this plan, Nilesy’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Alright then, get a change of clothes and these plans of yours and we’ll see what we can do.” He nodded in response, getting halfway down the ladder before she could yell for him to bring back towels as well. He took off across her lawn toward the low point in the fence that separated her lawn from his own, climbing up over it with the kind of ease that only came from years of practice._

_...Or it had looked easy, at least. The horrible yowling sound that immediately carried through the neighborhood, followed by the unmistakable sound of Nilesy’s apologetic voice, seemed to indicate that he had landed on the other side directly on top of his cat’s tail._

_Lomadia winced slightly, then reached down to pick up her book, seating herself on the relatively dry table as she flipped it open to find that the final few chapters at least seemed to have escaped the liquid onslaught._

_Thank goodness for small favors._


End file.
